


Gearsfics

by Radio Rascal (Vagrants)



Category: Gears of War (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Crack, Fluff, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, i will put specific warnings if necessary in author's notes, it's an anthology so everything is all over the place
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-05-25 07:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6186241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrants/pseuds/Radio%20Rascal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An anthology of not-necessarily-connected short stories. Various characters, genres, and seriousness levels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brief Interval

**Author's Note:**

> Delta Squad get stuck and have some time to kill. Being so used to killing Locust, this doesn't prove troublesome.
> 
> (Baird says some Baird-ly things about gays idk if that's a thing i should mention or not but i did so i did)

Marcus kicked at the intricately-designed door. His boot resounded with a metal tone and the door didn’t budge. All these doors in Nexus were starting to piss him off.

“Shit. Dead end.”

“The other way’s blocked too,” Dom said.

“Jack, see if you can rip this,” Marcus said and the robot appeared from nothing.

It floated close to the frame and started up its blowtorch. It beeped an odd note.

“He can’t do it?” Dom asked.

“It doesn’t look too thick,” Baird said, leaning close to the door. “It’s probably gonna take a while though. Dunno what these bastards make their buildings out of, exactly.”

“Or how,” Marcus remarked, taking a look around.

While moving through Nexus, they’d found themselves stuck in a smaller structure. The door they’d entered through was blocked off now, and the room they’d passed through a few minutes ago had been mostly empty save for some storage boxes.

This room resembled a chapel, with rows of uncomfortable-looking metal benches arranged like pews. Columns lined the walls and between them were circular windows, all the way to the back where a larger window overlooked a raised platform and podium. Delta stood near what must have been the front entrance.

“Let’s take a look around,” Marcus said. He shrugged. “You never know. We might find something useful.”

Baird seemed all too eager to dig his scientific teeth into exploring the room; he’d already been doing so with his eyes. He headed straight for the podium in the back, as did Cole.

Dom stayed near Jack and did not look up to exploring Locust buildings today.

Cole stood behind the podium and grasped the sides like he was a preacher. He put on his best fake-televangelist-voice and boomed, “And I say, God said, ‘go forth and fill those suckers up with holes!’” He slapped the podium lightly for emphasis, causing a piece of paper to flutter to the floor.

It turned over, revealing a crude drawing Marcus could barely make out from where he stood. He started walking over.

“What’s this?” Cole asked himself as he picked up the paper. “Aw, it’s kinda cute in a butt-ugly way.”

Baird regarded it from over the larger man’s shoulder and adjusted his goggles. “Yeah, like I thought. This is definitely a church and they definitely do marriage ceremonies of some kind.”

Marcus peered at the paper. Two poorly-drawn figures--they looked like Kantus--were portrayed embracing with their foreheads together. Some runes were scribbled on top, but only Baird could read them.

“They’re weird words,” he said. “Probably the names of the happy couple.”

“They probably ain’t happy anymore. I think I recognize that one. Except he was in a pool of his own blood.” Cole set the paper down on the podium.

“I can almost believe you’d be able to tell these bastards apart.”

Dom had wandered over too to look at the drawing. There were more under it and he started rifling through them. Marcus got a bad feeling about this--marriage probably wasn’t the best topic to bring up right now. Yeah, they were grubs, but it might remind him all the same.

“So, are there female Drones and Kantus, or do they get gay married  _ a lot _ more often than humans?” Dom asked.

“The latter’s more likely,” Baird said. “If our women were like Berserkers, every sane man would be gay.”

“But how do they kiss?” Cole asked.

Baird’s face scrunched up and he made a “stop right now” motion towards his friend. “Cole, you’re thinkin’ too hard about it. Cut it out.”

Instead, the man smirked and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Hey, didn’t another squad report in that Drones like to sleep in big groups, all cuddlin’ up to each other?”

Baird whirled around with his hands hovering over his head, like he was thinking about grabbing fistfuls of his hair but wasn’t committed to it. “Oh god, stop it.”

Cole laughed.

“So it’s official, we’re getting driven to extinction by a bunch of  _ gay worm worshippers _ . And we thought we were the strongest things on Sera.”

“Now, Damon, ain’t that kinda tasteless? Bein’ gay doesn’t preclude you from bein’ able to kick some ass.”

“I don’t think they  _ care _ , Cole Train.”

Dom dug through his pocket and produced a lighter. Marcus didn’t even know he carried a lighter.

“What are you doing?” Marcus asked.

“Burning them,” Dom answered, feeding the small flame to the bottom corner of the stack of papers he was holding. “They...they don’t deserve it, you know? Being this happy. Not after what they’ve done to us.”

The air felt colder, despite the fires crackling in the torches above. Marcus wanted to say something, but he knew he would have to explain  _ it _ to Baird and Cole, and now wasn’t the time.

As the last of the paper turned to blackened ash, Jack beeped in a cheery way and flew away from the now-opened door. The street looked calm right now, but the men knew that would change once they stepped foot outside.

“All right, Delta, let’s move,” Marcus said. “We still got work to do.”


	2. Call Ended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Skorge know about Marcus's idea to sink Jacinto before the Locust? He wasn't in the room with them.

“Consider it a back-up plan in case we can’t get to the Queen,” Marcus said, looking at Baird.

A sudden harsh growl caused the men to go on full alert. Didn’t they kill all the Locust?

“...Ah, shit,” Baird muttered, lowering his weapon.

That screaming dreadlock thing glared at them hatefully from a computer screen. He lifted a claw and stabbed a button, then disappeared.

**Call Ended**

**Duration 7 min 52 sec**

“Great. So, he heard everything.” Baird shrugged in resignation.

A few minutes later, Dom’s phone beeped at him. He pulled it out, scrutinized it for a moment, and his face screwed up. “I think that bastard just sent me anon hate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i replayed Gears 2 recently and this sort of puzzled me


	3. Essential Support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lone young Stranded faces off against monsters born of humanity's worst nightmares, all to find what she has lost.
> 
> It is not nearly as dramatic or serious you're thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this for the Gears of War forum's April contest but due to personal issues i ended up not being able to finish it. so i'll post it here now.
> 
> the theme was "support."

Jamie snapped her tank top strap back onto her shoulder just in time to avoid giving the Drone the show of its life.

Her hand shot back to her Lancer. She braced a moment before impact, pushing with all the might her weathered but well-tested body contained. The slight downward incline of the street helped the bayonet find a new home under the monster’s sternum.

The Drone hacked blood onto its chin and Jamie’s face. It fell backwards off the bayonet and hit the ground, still clutching the Boltok it never fired. She’d been sure not to give it a chance, springing from behind a defunct car at the last second like a parody of whatever Locust had nightmares of. Gears, maybe?

Jamie definitely didn’t look like a Gear. Even if she were taller and broader, her wardrobe lacked a wearable refrigerator, and she didn’t talk like she was gargling testosterone.

She felt her lack of masculinity at the moment, heaving breaths, forcing her exhausted lungs to put up with her. She brushed a strand of black bangs, plastered to her forehead from sweat and steadily slipping into her eyes, out of her way and glanced around. There were no other Locust.

These days, Jamie couldn’t even remember the name of the godforsaken place. It was on the plateau and so avoided the laser strikes, but lacked legs, so it couldn’t run from the Locust. And after they were done with the place, stripped the streets and buildings clean of all humans, they’d moved on and Jamie’s group had eventually moved in.

A breeze blew something small and white across Jamie’s vision. Her limbs pricked with cold and she nearly pulled the trigger on it. She watched the liberated magazine or catalogue page dance through the air and laughed shakily.

Given the chance to calm down, Jamie became aware once more of the persistent soreness in her chest. She’d been running around with a bra ever since her last one broke a few days ago. She was glad she wasn’t big; a more well-endowed woman wouldn’t even  _ think _ of anything more than “peaceful stroll,” let alone the kind of hectic rabbit-sprinting and quasi-parkour that was common to the life of a Stranded.

Maybe that’s why women ran back into Daddy COG’s arms, then.

Robson told her he’d look for bras on the next supply run, but she noticed where his eyes were going and didn’t trust him. He might burn the bras he found and claim the Locust were stealing them for fashion shows.

After a short rest and a long drink from one of her water bottles, Jamie was ready to move again. She’d hit up all the apartments between here and the settlement--found nothing. Every drawer had been pulled out, the underbelly of every bed scrutinized; laundromats, the trunks of cars, even boys’ rooms had been pillaged. She hadn’t found so much as a preteen’s training bra. It was true that her settlement had probably taken everything worth taking in a several mile radius, including every article of clothing you could name, but she’d found shirts and socks and other things.

_ So what gives? _ she thought, frustration souring her face. It was noon and the height of summer and her body had to grow new sweat glands just to keep up.

The lone Drone also bothered her, but maybe it was looking for something “sensitive” too. Did Locust wear jockstraps?

Maybe best not to travel down that road. Focus on the one straight ahead of her, past the body that would soon cook on the asphalt. She adjusted the pack slung around her shoulder and started off.

The stupid strap slipped off again and Jamie growled. She paused long enough to set it right. At least she’d wrangled up a pair of jeans that fit her colt-like legs. At this rate she was starting to wish she’d been born a man, and one lacking shame. The jeans fit, but trapped heat.

On the street corner, one hundred feet ahead, was a five-story building. The bricks were an assortment of faded reds and browns, and every window was as broken as one would expect. She noticed the planks criss-crossing the mahogany front door.

She placed her Lancer on the stoop, still close enough that she could grab it quickly, and rooted around her pack for the hammer. Before E-Day, girls had bags full of make-up and money and spare tampons. The spare tampons were still a thing, if you could find them, but the interior of a girl’s purse today was more likely to look like the inside of a hardware store. That was Jamie’s philosophy, anyway.

She went to work pulling out the nails. It was easy, though it inspired her to perspire more. A particularly stubborn nail forced her to use more girl power on it. Heat bloomed across her cheeks and for a second she thought it wouldn’t give.

But then the nail flew out like it’d been waiting for freedom. Jamie’s foot slipped off the stoop enough to upset her balance. Her arms wheeled but she couldn’t stop herself. Her back hit the sidewalk, the worse thing being the sensation of things moving far too much than they needed to.

She sat up. Nothing hurt too much, but the interruption made her realize how tired she was getting. She downed the rest of her first water bottle and tossed it to the ground. This would definitely be the last building--she had one bottle left, and needed something for the trip back.

There were no more problem nails, so soon the boards were gone. She tossed the hammer back into the pack, shrugged the pack onto her arm, and retrieved her Lancer.

The door was locked, but luck was on her side--it was one of those crappy locks that had a single button on the inside, and she happened to have a hair pin on her. She picked it one-handed, lock popping in a few seconds, and she smirked in satisfaction even though it hadn’t taken much effort on her part.

But that might have been the end of the fun part. It’d been boarded up, but there was no telling what could be in there. Wretches were known to get into some weird places.

Jamie grabbed the door knob, holding her breath. She twisted, shoved it forward, and swung her Lancer up to glare down the emptiness. Heat and a musty smell were all that came to greet her at the door.

The outside light only carried for a few feet, bleeding into darkness that told her this was a fool’s errand. Across the darkness, however, Jamie could see more light, edging from around a corner. There were two open apartment doors on her side of the shadows, and one more nearer the mystery light source.

She strode forward.

It hadn’t been an elegant or fancy facility, back in the day. It hadn’t been a good neighborhood, either; Jamie never lived here, but visited often to play with school friends, and she used to joke how little this part of the city had changed. The only thing the Locust had really taken away were the junkies on every street corner.

She went to the door on her left, pushing it in more to reveal a living room that looked unchanged from E-Day, besides the inordinate dust and weird “old and warm things” smell. If Jamie didn’t know better, she may have thought it seemed inviting.

She kept her Lancer raised as she rounded the corner, found nothing out of the ordinary in the kitchen, glanced cursorily into the single bedroom and bathroom to make sure she was truly alone. She shut the front door, locked it, and went back to the bedroom.

Her Lancer went on the bed, and her attention went to the crummy-looking dresser set against the wall. She tore open the drawers and found men’s boxers, feeling her spirit sink with disappointment. It was a necessary waste of time because there was no real way to tell “what” lived in an apartment until you found the underwear. She gave the rest of the apartment quick glances, hoping for leftovers from some past fling.

With the first checked, Jamie exited into the hall and slid into the next door to her left. She repeated the steps, found neither living nor dead waiting for her, and went to shut the front door.

Her left arm froze in the air. Every muscle tensed, one leg cocked in a half completed step, her lungs paralyzed. She felt like a jack-in-a-box, waiting for someone to turn the crank, except the latch was open and she was more afraid of what might jump out at her.

A few moments of standing like that, and the noise she thought she’d heard repeated. There was a grating, raspy bark, followed by softer grunts and noises that might have turned into words if she listened hard enough. But Jamie didn’t have to hear any more to know she had to leave now. Unless she got her species mixed up, those were Locust noises.

She could take one Locust, when it was surprised and she had momentum on her side. But a group of them? She had as much of a chance shooting them down as she did asking them politely to leave a lady alone.

Jamie pushed her head past the invisible netting of fear her brain had put over the front door, and peeked towards the street. She guessed they’d found their buddy’s body.

_ Crap _ . They knew there was something hostile in the area. Unless Drones had a tendency to commit sepuku in the middle of the street, there was no way the scene wouldn’t look like murder to the live Locust.

She ducked into the hallway and tiptoed as quickly as she could towards the other light. Part of the back wall had been torn down, opening into a deserted alley.

Once she had both feet on the outside and was fully confident that the Locust could not hear her, she turned right and sprinted with the desperation of a child being chased by angry bees.

Things bounced. She regretted the day of her birth.

Jamie wanted to avoid the main street, and luck was on her side. The back door of another building offered shadowy, moldy-smelling salvation. She was thrifty--she’d take it.

She turned left and found herself in a dank, dark kitchen. Amazingly enough, not all of the food had been scavenged by people or animals. The strangest combination of smells, so thick they were almost flavors, hung on the air. Her brain paused for a brief moment to process how many different kinds of rotting vegetables might be fermenting in the refrigerator, then she strode across the tiled floor while taking shallow breaths.

The door that would take her to the main part of the restaurant was closed. She pushed it in. She stared.

The restaurant’s floor had been cleared of tables and chairs--Jamie could see some of them outside the broken front windows, strewn around the street carelessly. This left a sizeable amount of space for the piles and piles of women’s lingerie.

Jamie had never seen such an assortment. Lacy panties all over the countertop. Hillocks of bras, sorted by style. There were even boy shorts, nursing bras, and the fluffy things obviously meant for the husband than the women. She swore she saw a lone (obviously unused) edible licorice thong draped over the neck of a wall-mounted light fixture.

It was then that Jamie’s brain registered two other things. Firstly, she realized she hadn’t seen any women’s underwear on her search either. She hadn’t paid attention since she preferred to go commando anyway.

Secondly, she noticed the three Drones.

The one nearest to her turned its head when it heard the squeak of the door. It was one of those dumb-looking goggles-wearing guys. It was leaning on the counter, its Hammerburst laying free.

There was a second Drone sitting against the adjacent wall, its gun also laying near it instead of in its hands. It was so enraptured by what it was looking at, it didn’t immediately notice that there was a human.

The third Drone was one of those weirdos who ran around without a shirt on, but that wasn’t the unusual part. With its claws on its hips and its feet spread, it looked confident and prepared.

It needed that confidence to pull off the frilly black bra it wore. The article had obviously been designed for someone with large jiggly jugs.

Judging by the discarded bras near the Drone’s feet, this wasn’t the first it had tried on.

Jamie snarled. First their planet--now this!? Would they ever  _ stop _ ? Had they no boundaries?

She squeezed the Lancer’s trigger and the nearest Drone’s exploded into red mist. Bra Drone stood in shocked stillness, and she saw why when she noticed there were two Hammerbursts on the counter. It had disarmed itself, the idiot.

The Drone near the wall scrambled, grabbing its gun in the same second that Jamie jumped over the body. She swung her arm back, bringing the bayonet forward into Bra Drone. It grunted, stumbling, blood trickling from a tiny wound in its upper abdomen.

Jamie roared and shoved the blade in further. The other Drone was able to start shooting by now. She sidestepped, forcing Bra Drone to move with her as it was attached to her bayonet. Its upper body trembled as it took its friend’s bullets.

It started to slump, and Jamie lowered herself for leverage. She shoved forward with every ounce of strength, grunting with the effort. The dead body fell into its living friend, knocking it back to the floor. The Hammerburst skidded across the floor.

Jamie leveled the Lancer at the remaining Drone’s head and fired until it stopped moving.

Her traumatized muscles twitched. She heaved a few breaths, staring around and letting the past twenty seconds sink in.

She guessed she didn’t have much time before the other Locust zeroed in on the gunshots. She slid her backpack off, opened the top, and started shoving bras in. Statistically, at least one had to fit her, and if not, then one could be modified. She was sure the other women back at camp would appreciate her efforts.

_ They’d better _ .

Jamie hefted the now-full backpack onto her shoulder and left through the front door. If she took a left, she’d get back to the settlement. With Locust hot on her trail, that’s where she aimed for. Her Lancer wasn’t the only one back home.

After several minutes of taking winding turns in hopes of confusing any pursuers, Jamie decided to stop for a moment in an alley. She was sore all over and in despite need of a drink. She took a big gulp of her water bottle and emptied the rest over her scorched face.

Next, she dug through her backpack and found one that looked to be about her size. When she had it on, she felt so much better.

She broke into a jog down the street, heading for home.

* * *

“Hmm.”

RAAM dragged a clawed finger down his chin in imitation of the human gesture. He placidly observed the dead bodies and the ransacked pile of bras.

“Hrmm,” he rasped.

His lieutenant, in the snazzy black armor typical of the Elites, poked at the body of Bra Drone and growled wordlessly. The high heat meant the bodies decomposed fast, so though only a couple of hours had passed since RAAM received the report, it had already started to smell.

_ I am not pleased, _ Myrrah said, with the same short snappiness as usual.  _ General, I consider this a black mark on your record. _

He closed his functioning eye. He hadn’t been in the area; what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t drop everything and  _ go shopping _ whenever she wanted. That’s why he ordered the Drones to gather up all the lingerie in the first place.

_ Open your eyes at once! I was not done looking! _

A black mark on his record, yes. But not as she thought.

_ I like the red one. _ She didn’t even sound happy. RAAM plucked it from the pile and turned to leave.

The Theron Elite was staring downward at his own chest, another of those blasted fat-hammocks held delicately in his claws. He tilted his head appraisingly, then nodded and gave his best impression of a smile. He looked up, met RAAM’s glare, and dropped the article of clothing without a second thought.

He’d be happy just to get out of this cramped building. He was starting to get a kink in his neck.

_ Wait, General! _

He paused.

_ I didn’t see that other pile. Look through them. _

He wanted to kink some necks, for sure. Namely of the human who killed these Drones and left him with this task. It could wait, he supposed. This was, apparently, more important.

He didn’t get it. Why didn’t women just not wear these things? Wouldn’t that be better for everyone involved?


	4. Skorge Gets a Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's favorite shrieky Kantus has a problem with needles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this belongs to the same AU that Operation Sinkhole does--Locust and humans never went to war, so they're more or less integrated. i like to imagine how the Locust would deal with different surface things and decided Skorge is probably the least adjusted/has the most difficult time. anyone who dresses the way he does is not someone who works well in society.

The waiting room was an acceptable level of crowded. All the people pushed themselves to the far side when the Locust walked in, so they had the wall nearest the check-in counter to themselves.

Skorge was feeling the air ahead of him with one hand, while the other held RAAM’s arm. “I smell antiseptic,” he shouted. “Are we at the butcher’s?”

Myrrah began checking in at the counter. “That is a name you use to refer to this place.”

“OH BOY!”

RAAM guided Skorge to a seat and pushed on him to tell him to sit. As long as that blindfold stayed on, he was more or less obedient.

“I am going to get an entire cow,” he proclaimed.

The terrified desk clerk accepted the clipboard and pointed to the open door leading to the exam rooms. “The doctor wants you back right now. Room two.” She spoke in hushed tones, wary of superior Kantus hearing.

Myrrah nodded and turned to the men. “Rise, Skorge. We are going to take a short walk.”

“This is the most convoluted surprise I have ever taken part in,” Skorge said, standing and looping his arm through RAAM’s. He looked like a twig next to a tree trunk.

He wore the minimum amount of clothing that humans deemed appropriate, which was one of the reasons why he received looks on his way to the door. His skimpy outfit would reduce his chances of escape in the final step of the process, because RAAM would not have to wrestle him out of his pants this time. Skorge didn’t have much upper body strength, but he could be slippery and quick.

Myrrah led them down two turns and into Exam Room Two. RAAM ushered Skorge in, and then worked himself through. She actually heard him utter “fuck” when he bashed his head against the frame. With him in the room, it felt like a queerly-decorated closet more than anything.

He tested the exam bed, then sat on it. He reached out one hand to Skorge, who was still standing, but didn’t touch him just yet.

“Can I use the cleaver today?” Skorge asked. “I love butcher’s cleavers.” He made a chopping motion with his hand.

“No,” Myrrah sighed. “You cannot.” She pulled the blindfold from his eyes.

He blinked, dazzled, but soon enough became aware of the situation. She first saw confusion, then hurt, then betrayal. “We...we’re not at the _pricking place_ , are we?”

“I have told you, Skorge, it’s called a doctor’s office.”

Skorge grabbed his bald head and screamed. RAAM looped an arm around his waist and hauled him onto the exam bed before he could run.

The next five minutes were a raucous mixture of wailing from Skorge, and grunting and scuffling from RAAM. He ended up laying across RAAM’s lap, his head and torso trapped under one hard-as-concrete arm, the Drone’s other hand trying to keep his legs immobile.

A well-placed kick from him could bust through these walls like they were wet paper, or break a human’s spinal column. As much as Myrrah didn’t care about humans, she didn’t want a diplomatic situation today.

 _At least not until after he gets his damn boosters,_ she thought.

“I’m not getting a shot,” Skorge warbled. “I’m not getting a shot! Right? Right? _This is just a check-up_!” His pitch kept rising until he sounded like a dolphin attempting speech. He clawed futilely at RAAM’s arm and wheeled his calves around in search of something to kick off of. If he had leverage, he could topple even RAAM with those legs.

Myrrah resisted the urge to glance at her watch. This room was starting to swelter. Was the aide avoiding them?

“I can’t believe this!” Skorge roared. “After all I’ve done for you! And you do this to me?”

“It’s just a booster, Skorge,” Myrrah snapped, watching the door as thought she could will the human to move faster. If they were a Locust, that would have worked.

She tried to imagine another Locust giving Skorge his shots. Oh god. They were all terrified of needles back at the palace.

“I--I’ll give you my allowance for the next three weeks, if you let me go,” Skorge said.

 _It’s my money anyway,_ Myrrah thought.

“I won’t scream at midnight anymore! Even if there are owls!”

Myrrah scowled. It had probably been about six minutes now, but it felt like she’d been here half an hour.

“What did I do wrong?” When she looked again, he had stopped squirming and now only trembled. “My queen, what has made you turn against me like this? Have the gods forsaken me?”

Finally, the knob twisted and the door moved inward. Myrrah almost smiled, but suppressed the reflex. The woman who stepped through was small and young, probably new to the complex. When she saw RAAM her eyes widened and she reared her head back; she was definitely new, but seemed resilient enough.

“Well,” the aide began, placing her tray of supplies on the counter, “how are we today?”

“Irritated,” Myrrah said, then hastily added, “but Skorge will be fine once it is all over. I am taking him to the meat farm. He can pick out his own cow. Isn’t that right, Skorge?”

The Kantus lay limp in RAAM’s arms. He shut his eyes. “Just get it over with,” he whispered. His whisper was everyone else’s regular speaking volume.

The nurse nodded and brought over the tray. She balanced it on the sliver of bed that wasn’t occupied with Locust, and took out the cotton swab. Skorge watched her and waited until the cotton was half a foot from his leg, then he began his screaming and struggling anew.

RAAM wasn’t paying as much attention as he should have. Skorge managed to spring off his lap, and was in midair when RAAM caught him and wrangled him back into a prone position. Myrrah could feel his shrieking in her chest.

The aide was against the wall, mouth gaping, aghast.

“Just give him the shot.” Myrrah had to yell to be heard over Skorge’s bone-shivering scream.

“The area hasn’t been disinfected,” the aide shouted back.  
  
“It’ll be fine! Just do it!” Locust didn’t get human infections.

The nurse walked back over, picked up the needle from the tray, and stood over Skorge. His bare thigh offered plenty of real estate, but she couldn’t seem to pick a suitable spot. His foot twitched a few inches closer to her chest and she flinched like she’d been hit.

“Stop hesitating and _stick it in_!”

As soon as Myrrah said it, she saw RAAM’s face twitch. Skorge’s wail turned into one long, dramatic, shuddering inhale while the shot was administered. RAAM’s single eye glared down at the human and he looked ready to take advantage of the rare quiet.

“Don’t you dare--” Myrrah started.

“She tells me that every time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the most elaborate "that's what she said" joke i've ever made


	5. Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little pieces of you die every day, but if you hold on fiercely enough to what's left, you won't lose yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another Gears forum contest entry. this time i actually finished it in time, and i posted it a few hours ago. i feel sick with nerves but i'm glad i participated, even if i don't win.
> 
> the topic was "Forgotten."
> 
> some parts feel...half-baked idk, but the first draft was nearly 7000 words long and i had to double post as it was. if i went all the way i could have ended up with three or even four posts so. yeah.

The flood was beneath them, but the world had ceased to exist.

Instead of black, roaring death, screaming white now surrounded Kaise and his men. His ears were closed against the sound but it still filled his head, a different kind of hell from the one below. He tried in vain to find something in the nonexistence before him.

His armor protected him from the worst of the weather. He sat against hard rock. He and his men had crawled into a shallow cave, but it did little to block the wind and snow. Kaise’s legs looked like another part of the landscape.

Ari, Zeni, and Zin were on his right, directly in the path of the wind. Kaise could make out the outlines of the littermates clinging to each other, one covering the other, but he couldn’t tell who was who. Zin clung to his arm, face pressed between Kaise’s shoulder plate and the rock.

To his left were Sleyn and Petris, similarly configured. The men weren’t wearing much--nobody expected to leave the Hollow and ascend into a surface winter. Kaise shuddered to think what the world would feel like without his Elite armor.

Whatever slim chance of salvation this rock offered, it was better than sitting prone. They could have climbed straight into a frozen hell for all Kaise knew; maybe they had all perished in the flood and this was their punishment for losing.

His men were fading, and he knew that. He’d worked with most of them for years--Ari and Zeni were new--and, typically, could feel their presences like he felt his legs when he wasn’t looking at them. Instead of his flesh going numb,  _ they _ were. And there was nothing he could do.

_ Queen Myrrah did this, _ Kaise thought suddenly. It wasn’t delirium; he was nowhere near cold, though the tips of his fingers were beginning to chill. His mind was still sharp and clear from adrenaline.

He cautioned himself against jumping to conclusions. There could have been any number of reasons for the early flooding.

Which made the most sense, though? That there was an accident, or that Myrrah had given the order to the High Priest to sink Jacinto early? Save Nexus and damn whatever else was out there, she may have said.

_ Would Skorge really do that, though? _ Kaise asked himself, and chastised himself for thinking so naively. Skorge may have been RAAM’s friend, but that didn’t mean he cared about any other drone, especially over Queen Myrrah.

Did she think they would lay down and die? Kaise wouldn’t allow his men to suffer such a fate because of the cruelty of one person. He would make them survive.

They would find Myrrah. They would show her what the Horde was capable of. But first, they had to live.

* * *

Last night’s storm left everything looking plush and eerie in the early dawn light. Quen was bundled in the warmest clothes he owned to protect against the deepened chill. Small flakes, remnants of the blizzard’s fury, swirled around him.

He stood on the cliffside and watched. There wasn’t much to see; the valley was blemish-free save for a thin stream that had turned solid several days ago. The smooth whiteness stretched for miles to join with the mountains on the opposite side. Those peaks looked down like guardians, shielding from Quen a Sera that could have existed or not. On the other side of his village’s mountain was an impenetrable section of the range. Nobody was certain what lay beyond either boundary.

In the early days it had been tough, and many had died during the transition to a life without electricity or the city. Now, though, people carried on like nothing was wrong. Even the underlying current of anxiety--that the Locust would find them and ruin their remote lives--had abated.

When the sun cleared the tallest peak, Quen called off his vigil and trekked home. He was one of the few that still lived on the mountain itself, instead of the barely-functioning town in the valley mouth. It was ten cold minutes to warmth.

He looked to his left, down on the village that was beginning to stir from sleep. He woke up earliest and went to bed the latest; he’d heard as much from his friends.

His grandfather built his family’s house a long time ago, in the middle of the Pendulum Wars. The nearest neighbor was two miles away and further down the mountain. Quen thought of the entire place as “his.” Even though it was rocky, uninteresting, and covered with grass that barely lived.

The house itself was a simple one-story affair. The mix of cobblestone and wood made it look old, but Quen’s father had it reworked a couple decades ago. Everything inside was about as new as anyone could get now.

When he stepped through the front door, he had the kitchen to his right, and a short hallway leading to the living room straight ahead. There was another hall on the other side of the kitchen that led to the bedrooms.

Quen didn’t cook much, so he didn’t keep much in his refrigerator. The few eggs he had were probably about to go rotten, so he fried them. He took his breakfast into the sparsely-decorated living room. When the house became his, he got rid of almost everything that wasn’t needed, keeping only his parents’ bedroom intact.

When he finished eating, he put the plate on top of the others stacked on the coffee table and grabbed the notebook that was also laying there. In it, he wrote the day’s report.  _ Nothing suspicious in the morning. Had a blizzard so it’s very snowy. If there was anything it’s probably snowed in or dead by now. _

The notebook was almost full. He’d have to go into town and buy more paper. He wondered if he had anything good to trade; currency had become meaningless pretty quickly for the villagers.

He probably had an extra pair of socks he didn’t want anymore. Someone could use them.

* * *

Zeni didn’t make it.

Ari was still hunched over the body, shaking it, moaning in abject grief. His last surviving brother wasn’t waking up, and he didn’t understand why. And Kaise had no idea how to explain.

The Drone may have been a physically-mature adult, but he was still only five--fresh from training and lacking the accrued intellect of a long survivor like Kaise. Ari knew what death was but never in his short life had he ever thought it would happen to him or anyone he knew. It was hard for each Drone to accept. Kaise had had his time, too.

He left Ari to it alone, and turned away from the spectacle to count their rations again. They’d had enough to recuperate their energy after the storm ended, but there was hardly any left. They didn’t have it to walk across this frozen hell to somewhere with food.

The world they’d come up to  _ was _ the surface, but it was solid white above and below, and covered in those huge sharp protrusions called mountains. It gave Kaise the sensation of being closed off; here, he could believe they were not only the last of the Locust race, but the last living things on the entire planet.

But he knew there were humans and animals on the surface. The question was, could anything live in a place like this?

_ They _ certainly couldn’t. They wouldn’t, if they stayed in this spot.

Zin was the worst off. He’d been complaining of a headache in the Hollow, before the flooding, and now lay in a corner of the cave, immobilized with fever. Everyone panicked about Lambency before Kaise took off a section of Zin’s armor to show there was nothing glowing under his skin.

Sleyn and Petris were outside, walking around to generate warmth. Sleyn was almost pressing himself against the sniper, his lack of a shirt having become his greatest curse.

Kaise gestured to Petris. “We’ll scout,” he said. “Your rifle will be useful.”

Sleyn moved back to the cave without a word and pulled himself in next to Zin. He didn’t seem to have any reservations about infection.

Kaise and Petris started off. Without the sun, it was impossible to tell what direction they were going in, and there were few landmarks in this barren wasteland, so they kept to the curve of the mountain. In a few minutes, Kaise couldn’t see the shelter when he glanced back.

It was quiet for a while. Kaise had to watch out for boulders hidden in the snow--he smashed his boot against one once, feeling the shock all the way up his leg.

Besides that, there were no enemies. No animals, nor signs of them. Kaise cautioned himself against panic, telling the knot in his stomach to undo itself this instant.

The path they were walking on was widening. As the nearest mountainside curved away from theirs, they found themselves in a valley. Kaise saw a grey sliver to his right that vanished in the distance. As they approached, he saw it was a stream.

It was mostly frozen, but some patches of ice looked suspect. It was thirty feet across and Kaise couldn’t begin to guess how deep.

“Petris, look at that mountain there,” he said, pointing to the other end of the valley. It wasn’t very far. “Near the base.”

Petris peered through his Longshot and within a few seconds, made a noise of recognition. “Human buildings.”

Just as Kaise thought. His eyes weren’t fooling him. “Any activity?”

“Can’t see.”

Kaise weighed his options. If they approached during the day, the humans would see them. They might have already been seen.

If they snuck in at night, that meant crossing the river in darkness.

The crossing would be perilous either way. Kaise started back towards camp to tell the others. They would have food tonight.

* * *

After being isolated, the village ran out of various supplies fast. They’d relied on the nearest city for products, using a thready road to reach the highway a few miles to the west. The city and the roads had fallen to rubble in the passing years.

No gasoline meant cars became defunct. Their shells lay useless in yards and streets. No shipments to the sole grocery store meant everyone relied completely on farming for food. The grocery store itself had been converted into a storehouse for extra vegetables and meat.

Gas stations, auto shops, and other facilities that required other parts of Sera to survive had also fallen under. Quen passed the empty buildings and remembered when this place had been vibrant. Several hundred people still clung to life here in the valley mouth, toiling in gardens and tending to livestock, but it was a different universe from the one that existed in Quen’s memory.

Some people were outside, using shovels to deal with the blizzard’s aftermath as well as they could. A few glanced at Quen as he passed, but every head ducked back down without a gesture or word.  _ They must think I’m insane, _ he thought, keeping to the center of the street.

He knew that already, of course; this wasn’t an epiphany moment. But each time he came down here, he remembered. He only interacted with others to do work or to trade. He’d been pretty good for things lately, so he hadn’t even been doing that much.

His goal was Pem’s house, near the very edge of the village where it began to cross over into “you can’t call this civilization” territory. It was one of those weird buildings with the store on the ground floor and a living space on the second story. Pem earned his share by taking care of the buildings around town, since their society had gone back to bartering.

The general store door was always unlocked, so Quen let himself in. Pem cleared it out years ago, but the space felt small. It was worse upstairs, with walls and doors. Huang, Pem’s son, his wife An, and Quen himself tried convincing Pem to move, but he refused.

Quen stood by the stairs in the back of the store and rapped on the wall. “Hey, are you there?”

He heard footsteps upstairs. Pem was Quen’s father’s age and just starting to turn grey. He still looked solid and strong. He was wiping his hands on his shirt as he came down the stairs. He’d probably just got done taking care of his goats, which he kept in the yard behind his store.

“Quen,” he said. “What are you here for?” It was his way of saying hi.

“I needed paper,” Quen said. “I was wondering if you had any, or knew someone who did.”

Pem rubbed his chin for a second. “Sho, maybe. He collected stationery back in the day.”

Quen nodded. He knew where Sho’s family lived. “Thanks.” He started to turn to the door, but stopped. “You don’t...ever see anything weird down here, do you? Like in the valley?”

Pem raised a brow. “You asked me that six months ago. My answer hasn’t changed.”

He fidgeted. “I know, but…”

“Quen, you can’t change things no matter how much you watch.” Pem put a hand on his shoulder, just for a second. It was long enough to drive the point home.

He balled his fists, but didn’t let his anger past there. “I know. I have to get going, Pem.” He exited the store without looking back.

Sho’s family lived on the hill beneath Quen. He exchanged a pair of his socks for some old stationery with bears on it. They invited him inside for a drink, but he really wanted to be home.

When he got there, he stewed for a while before going to the cliff. Pem was right, but he was also wrong.

Quen had to watch, because if they came back--if he saw them, because somebody  _ had _ to  _ see _ them--then he could go meet them with whatever they needed. They’d be hungry, probably, and definitely cold.

They would enter the valley through the mountain pass. That many people couldn’t be missed, even at a distance. If he slacked, they’d have to make the last leg of the journey without being noticed, and would cause quite a shock. Quen was best for the job because of where he lived.

What kind of son would he be, if he wasn’t there to greet his parents when they returned?

* * *

In the Hollow, light was low but constant. Except in places where there was no vegetation, one could expect some form of luminescence. It was not so on the surface.

Kaise had spent plenty of time on the surface, but lived the last few months in the Hollow, dealing with evacuation plans. He felt as disoriented as he did his first night. The world was so uniformly white that the only indication of sunset was a slight shift, a subtle darkening as his eyes failed to compensate perfectly. The moons were glowing behind the clouds by now, and humans would be preparing to sleep.

Nothing moved in the valley, nor the mountain. There was no noise except for the occasional whistle of wind somewhere. It didn’t look like there would be another blizzard tonight, at least.

He looked back at the cave. There was a spark of light where Petris used the kindling he kept on hand to make a fire. Kaise walked near and his hearts wrenched at the sight of Ari, draped over Zeni’s body. He looked too much like a child.

Sleyn had commandeered Zeni’s chest and arm armor, and looked much better for it. He and Petris gazed at Kaise and merely waited.

“Ari, stay here,” Kaise said. “I am trusting you to watch over Zin.”

The Drone raised his head a fraction and grunted in acknowledgement. At least he wasn’t too far gone for that.

Kaise beckoned Sleyn and Petris. “Let’s begin.”

* * *

Quen stood on the cliffside for his evening watch. The wind didn’t feel bad, the night was pale with snow and a break in the clouds that let the double moons shine through. It was that kind of ethereal, still beauty only winter could provide.

He felt like he had something to prove, so he stayed longer than usual. He wouldn’t sleep soon, he knew.

Tiny, dark shapes appeared from the rocky distance. The valley was small and narrow, but they were too far away for him to tell much other than they were human-shaped.

His heart thumped, but something kept him rooted to the spot. He didn’t know where the uncertainty was coming from, but he knew how to dispel it; his father’s hunting rifle.

It was a mad dash to and from the house. The rifle was stored in his father’s closet, and Quen felt like he was disturbing a tomb as he tore through everything.

Quen hadn’t held a gun in years. He tried to hold it as steady as possible while he looked through the scope and moved the rifle in an attempt to find his targets.

The scope didn’t bring them too close, but something about the shape unnerved Quen deeply. This wasn’t right. There were three human shapes, heading directly for the village. Their arms were all folded like they were carrying things.

_ Should I go help Pem? _ Quen thought.

It was one of those decisions he might look back on and think was stupid later. All he knew was that Pem was down there alone and Quen had his own gun.

He didn’t have bullets, and didn’t know where to get them, so he hoped a bluff would work.

Quen only hoped they were dealing with humans.

* * *

There was nearly enough light to see color now. Kaise had second thoughts, but couldn’t bring himself to order a retreat. If his men saw him weak and afraid, they, too, would have second thoughts.

General RAAM could have turned around for any reason, and nobody would have criticized him. And it wouldn’t have been out of fear of his reaction; everyone  _ trusted _ RAAM to do what was smartest. Kaise hoped he could inspire those feelings in his troops, but this was no time to test them.

The river was less than three hundred feet away. He told them they’d get food tonight, and that was what they intended to do. He didn’t intend to leave Zin and Ari alone, either.

And they were  _ only _ here for food. Eliminating the humans could come later, if at all. Kaise didn’t care at this point.

They were close enough for Kaise to see warm orange and yellow in the general area where the human dwellings would be--the distance made the greys and blacks bleed together, shapes indistinct.

But there were no lights lower on the mountain. If they slipped into this uninhabited area, found something, and left quickly enough, they might not have to have a confrontation at all. Humans would suspect their own before Locust.

There were two buildings coming up. One looked close to collapse, but the other seemed relatively well-cared for. He could smell something on the air as they drew closer, and stuck out his hand to stop the others.

“Animal,” Petris said. He’d smelled the same thing.

“Quick and quiet,” Kaise reminded them. He was most worried about Sleyn; grenadiers weren’t known to be delicate.

They headed for the more delapidated building. They hid behind it, glancing around the side to their target. It was a two-story structure, made of brick, and had a faded sign above the front door. Something smelled  _ alive _ over there.

Petris was peering at the building through his Longshot. “Nothing,” he said after a few moments.

“Stay here and cover us,” Kaise said. “If you see a human, make a lot of noise.”

Petris nodded.

Kaise and Sleyn set off together. It was twenty feet across a crumbling, snow-covered road to the building. The area smelled vaguely of humans, but he saw no signs of any.

Sleyn continued around the building, pointing towards the back. Kaise kept an eye on the front door and slipped around the corner with him.

There was a large, fenced-in area behind the building. Several goats stood in the darkness, stupidly unaware.

Kaise vaulted over the fence and the animals bleated. He grabbed the nearest one’s neck and began throttling it. It kicked with its front hooves, but only for a moment.

Sleyn had both hands around another. The noise stopped.

It hadn’t stopped soon enough.

Kaise neglected to take notice of the back door to the building in time. It blew open, and a crack exploded through the air. The quiet shattered like glass and in the muzzle flare of the human’s shotgun, Kaise saw the garish red color of Sleyn’s blood. The Drone fell to the ground minus a head.

Kaise reacted on instinct. He raised his Hammerburst and fired a burst into the human’s midsection. It yelped and fell. It wasn’t a Gear. It was probably expecting other humans and fired on reflex when it saw Locust.

It was a good shot for a human under stress.

Kaise looked at Sleyn’s body. The human was moaning, but no longer a threat. It had made a godawful amount of noise, though.

He slung the dead goat over his shoulder and picked up the one Sleyn had strangled. Both of them weren’t much. At the moment, food was more important than anything else, but as Kaise raced back towards Petris with his “prize” in tow.

He beckoned Petris from his makeshift observation point. The sniper didn’t ask questions, just grabbed one of the carcasses from Kaise’s shoulder and ran beside him.

They crossed the river without incident. Kaise glanced over his shoulder the entire way, but no humans pursued them. He wondered what they would do with Sleyn’s body, if they would do anything.

He had to go back. He slowed and Petris stopped as well.

The sniper looked confused when Kaise handed him the other goat. “Go back to camp. I will follow shortly.”

Petris didn’t ask. Maybe he understood the same way Kaise did, or he might have been conditioned to accept whatever he was told. Either way, he nodded and set off with both burdens.

Kaise marched back to get Sleyn, alone.

* * *

Quen’s entire body quivered and his lungs burned. When he heard the shots, he ran like his own life depended on it. His instincts screamed at him to go back home, to hide, but if guns had been fired it meant Pem was involved.  _ If guns were fired, those things probably weren’t humans. _

Pem’s general store looked completely untouched from the front. He felt like yelling, but feared what might answer him.

He pushed the front door open, cringing at the squeak of hinges. He raised the rifle, feeling stupid and weak, but it was the best he could do. There’d been multiple gunshots, so one of them had to be Pem’s, right? Maybe he scared them off.

Quen took a calculated risk. “Pem?” he called into the darkness. He might have heard something low and quiet in response, but couldn’t tell if it came from a person or the old walls.

The door to the back room was open, and the door to the backyard was too, because some light was coming in. Quen took it slow and careful through the front of the store, glancing into the stairwell as he passed. He didn’t know what to look for or how to act. But if Pem was anywhere, it was most likely the backroom.

As Quen moved closer to the open door, the yard became visible. A slanted rectangle of light illuminated a dark heap that lay in the doorway. There was a puddle of dark liquid shining in the moons’ light.

“Pem!”

Quen could make out the man’s face now, screwed up in pain. He knelt and let the rifle drop to the wood plank floor. “What happened?”

Pem opened his mouth and choked out a noise. Quen felt stupid.   
“No, never mind. Don’t talk. Don’t try to move.” He looked over Pem’s abdomen and guessed there might have been two or three entry wounds. He glanced around, looking for marks on the walls where the bullets exited, but he couldn’t quite tell. They might have still been in Pem’s body.

In a way, that could be a good thing. Quen heard that sometimes bullets stopped the bleeding, even if only by a fraction, and that fraction was the difference between survival and death.

“I need to get you to the doctor,” Quen said, but realized there was no way to move Pem without making the bleeding worse. Gravity was probably what kept him alive this long. “Or...I need to get the doctor to you.”

Pem grunted. He shook his head, his eyes twinkling in pain.

“What do you mean? I can’t just--let you--”

Quen looked around, frantic, like he could find something that would fix this situation. Instead his eyes fell on the dead Locust and locked there for many seconds. Was it really dead? It had to be--nothing could live with that much of its head missing.

But he’d seen three in the valley. That meant there were two somewhere, unaccounted for and ready to kill again. Had the war that passed them by finally landed at their doorstep? Was the rest of Sera so bad that the things had to resort to clawing through these isolated and empty lands?

“I have to at least try,” Quen said, mostly to himself.

He moved into the front room, then up the stairs. Blood pounded in his head and the rest of the world stopped existing.

He grabbed Pem’s first aid kit from the bathroom and pounded down the stairs two at a time. Pem was still there when he got back.

Despite Quen’s efforts, he started admitting to himself that he couldn’t do anything to stop what was happening. He didn’t leave Pem’s side until he was certain there was nothing to leave behind.

* * *

Kaise stood over Sleyn’s body. The human was already dead--one look said it all--and there was nothing in sight to take his frustration out on. Except himself.

They could have been the very last Locust. Each death was a step closer to extinction and a permanent mark against Kaise. He didn’t care about being promoted anymore; this was a personal failure, like the world screaming at him.  _ You are not good enough. _

He hauled Sleyn up and slung him over the fence. The body thudded against the ground. Some of what remained of his head got on Kaise’s armor, and when he saw it, he clawed at himself like it was a heart leech.

A click caught his attention. He whirled to face the open door and saw the human. Disbelief flickered through him before he realized it was a different one--standing over its dead friend, holding the shotgun that took Sleyn’s life. The barrel was pointed directly at Kaise’s head.

* * *

Quen had hidden in the shadows, waiting to see what would happen. Only the armored one showed up, and he felt powerful with the barrel of the shotgun glaring at its ugly face.

He knew there was at least one more, and he didn’t know where it was. Did this one return to finish the job?

The Locust was frozen in place, as if it couldn’t believe a mere human caught it. Its eyes were strikingly pale, almost moon-colored. It just looked and looked at Quen while his finger trembled on the trigger.

He shouted, “Why?” It didn’t answer. “ _ What are you _ ? Why did you attack us? Why did you attack Sera? You--you killed my parents, didn’t you? Like you killed Pem! Like you killed everyone else!”

To his utter shock, it spoke--but in a language he didn’t speak. The words sounded Tyran, but Quen could have been mistaken.

The Locust’s voice was like smoke and shadow. It said something, then shook its head. It was silent for a moment before looking Quen square in the eyes and saying something in a grave, low tone.

Quen quivered. He couldn’t understand any of it.

“I can’t understand you,” he growled.

The Locust spoke again and lifted a claw. Quen glanced down and saw how badly his hands were trembling. He took a backwards step, closer to the shadows. He didn’t think he’d miss if he fired, but he wasn’t sure.

Then the Locust jumped, disappearing to the side. Quen turned the corner in time to see its boots hitting the ground behind the fence. Damn, it was fast. He took his chance and fired.

Buckshot hit the creature’s leg, but it ran on undeterred.

Quen turned and ran through the general store, to the street. He trained the shotgun on the corner where it should have appeared. After a few seconds he thought it might have gotten to a hiding place already.

Then something huge and powerful grabbed him. Before he understood what was happening, he was pinned to the ground. His cheek burned against the freezing snow and he was too shocked to even be afraid.

The Locust’s gravelly voice spoke to him. It stood with one boot in his back, and he saw it stoop to pick up the shotgun.

A lump formed in his throat, along with tears in his eyes. He’d failed. Worse; he’d opened the door for this place to be destroyed.

The weight lifted from his back. The thing hauled him to his feet one-handed and placed him in front of itself. His head reached its chest, and he craned his neck to look at its eyes. It smelled terrible, probably even more so under that armor.

“Human,” it said. That was one of the few Tyran words Quen knew. It turned him around and shoved his back lightly, but he still almost fell. “ _ Go _ .”

He listened. He expected a shot to the back but it never came. When he glanced back, the Locust had gone, most likely back into the general store.

He ran breakneck, desperate to be among humans.

* * *

Kaise placed Sleyn with Zeni in the cave. They had no equipment for a proper burial. He wondered if their souls could find their own ways back underground, then asked himself if the afterlife even existed.

It wasn’t a question he wanted to answer with field experience. He sat down at the fire to help Petris take the goats apart.

Ari watched with interest. “I seen that,” he said.

“What?” Kaise looked at him.

Ari pointed at the goat’s dead face. “Seen it up in the rock.”

There  _ were _ wild ones, then. They didn’t have to raid the humans. The brief flash of guilt overrode the pain in his leg. He might as well have been shot in the chest.

“That’s very good, Ari,” Kaise said, not letting his disappointment show. A literal-minded young Drone would think they’d done something wrong to upset him. “Now we know we can get more food.”

Ari looked pleased. He still glanced at Zeni’s body every few minutes, as if expecting his brother to wake from sleep, but seemed to be accepting the idea of death on his own terms.

Petris already gave both livers to Zin, knowing he needed it most. These were good men indeed. They were the new hearts of the Locust race, as far as Kaise was concerned, and he was proud to be the leader and defender of those hearts. He wanted to be something they would be proud of in return.

They were making smaller, more manageable packages out of the goats, then cooking the meat. The four of them ate portions of it right then--Zin was well enough to sit up now, and would no doubt be fine for walking by morning. Petris volunteered to carry the rest, always the resource keeper in any team he and Kaise had been part of together.

The sky was clear, and stayed so through the morning. Kaise watched the sun rise and felt much more capable of orienting himself. He’d recognized the language the human spoke; if he was right about which country they were in, then Tyrus was to the west.

Nexus was underneath Tyrus. It was his best bet for finding Myrrah. Even if he didn’t want to see her again, they had to leave soon.

Kaise didn’t have it in him to carry on a war that wasn’t his. It was time to forget about prejudice and direct his energy to the true enemy. The humans in these mountains never hurt Kaise; his own Queen had.

Yet there was also no chance of reconciliation. If that were at all feasible, then it would be achieved by men far greater than Kaise. He couldn’t carry the war on his shoulders, but he couldn’t stop fighting either. He would make a terrible diplomat.

He looked up from the leg he’d been dismantling and glanced at each of his men in turn. “Drones. Who wants to find our Queen?”

He couldn’t see Petris’s reaction behind the goggles, but Ari and Zin both brightened significantly. The first step to his plan would be to remove that positive association. He was their Theron, but didn’t yet have their loyalty; it would come in time.

By mid-morning, they were ready to move. Westward-bound, their route would take them around the mountain they’d sheltered under. Kaise recalled what looked like the beginnings of a pass that he spotted while scouting yesterday.

There was little time to waste. Tyrus waited with whatever it held.

* * *

Three days passed. Quen didn’t see the Locust again. He amped up his routine watches and paid particular anxious attention to the gap between the mountains.

He hadn’t seen another human being since shortly after the funeral. That day, he traded many of his things for seeds and gardening equipment, including the useless rifle to a man who happened to possess the correct bullets. Most of what he had couldn’t be planted until spring, but he make do somehow.

It was irrational, but he thought if  _ he _ survived his encounter with the Locust, then the people who left years ago to see what had become of Sera might be alive too. He knew it was irrational because he couldn’t judge the entire Locust species based on an individual.

But the hope spurred him, and he watched. And the world went on around him, along with whatever existed beyond the mountains.


	6. RAAM Vs the Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General RAAM faces down his adversary to protect the Horde.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't actually think RAAM is stupid but i started thinking and i realized...why would the Locust make the train go faster??? would it not be beneficial for them to stop the train, instead of going faster.
> 
> like, having a boss battle on a moving train is of course cool as all fuck but in-universe it does make him look unnecessarily reckless ngl

The cab containing the train controls was not at all RAAM-friendly. He stood hunched over and could feel cramps in his knees. The Theron Guard next to him was doing much better. Maybe the doctors shouldn't have injected so many steroids into him while he was in the womb.

_ Look for a method of stopping the train _ , Myrrah told him. He let his eye linger on each piece, hoping she could tell him what they were, or what the numbers meant at least.  _ General, I know as much about trains as you do. I am relying on you to complete your objective. Yes, I am aware we should have had a debriefing on trains before the mission. _

The Theron poked at a dial. The needle jumped in response to some unknown stimulus. Maybe that was the “idiots in the cab who don't know how to drive a fucking train” meter.

_ Skorge does have that little video playing device and the disc I ordered you to steal for him, _ Myrrah said.  _ “Lots and Lots of Trains” or some such. I will summon him. _

If there was anyone you wouldn't trust with slowing down, it was that jackfuck of a man. When he pissed it sounded like a firehose. He'd probably say to go faster and  _ fly _ over the broken tracks to the other side.

_ Ah, I apologize. It was not Lots and Lots of Trains you stole for him. It was only a recording of the infomercial. Apparently he finds human business tactics fascinating. _

RAAM’s eye fell upon a lever in the corner. It sort of looked like a dick, so he had the urge to grab it.

_ Did you know he has a shrine for Billy Mays? I am...concerned, General. He needs to get out more. _

RAAM wrapped his fingers around the metal. He felt a slight cold through the fabric of his gloves. He thought of the Theron. He looked over and met the Theron’s placid golden eyes.

_ General! _ Myrrah exclaimed.  _ Stop that...that  _ hand motion _! Remember what you're here for! _

He was pretty sure this was the speed control anyway. He shoved it forward and it broke off in his hand. The next moment, he was thrown backwards as the train surged.

The Theron stepped forward uneasily and looked at one of the dials. He shrieked. “Now we're twice as speed!”

Not his proudest moment, RAAM admitted. He knelt before the broken lever and tried to tug it with his fingers. It was jammed in that position.

_ I cannot believe this, _ Myrrah snapped.  _ Why not shoot yourself for the enemy next? _

“You done a fuck,” the Theron moaned, in a fetal position on the floor. “Real up-fucked.”

Goddammit, he knew that. Just let a guy deal with his mistakes.

Another Theron approached the open cab door. “Ssir, humans on train.”

That was the second worst news he'd received in the past two minutes. RAAM glanced at his quivering subordinate and decided dealing with humans was easier than dealing with what they created.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is that joke about the gearshift too much for a T rating


	7. Babysitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skorge is unhappy for a little under 2000 words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !WARNING: GEARS 4 SPOILERS, DO NOT READ BELOW THIS IF YOU WANT TO AVOID THEM!
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> i wrote this half as a joke, half because of weird headcanons! in all technicality, Myrrah is Skorge's grandmother in my headcanon 'verse so Reyna would be his aunt, but that requires more explanation so whatever.

Incessant, ceaseless screaming echoed through the corridors, and for once it wasn’t coming from one of Skorge’s “projects.” The child had been wailing since last night and hadn’t let anyone on this wing of the palace get any rest. Normally, Skorge would  _ deal with _ things that were causing him a problem, but he couldn’t touch this one.

Because the child was the Locust Princess.

Myrrah’s daughter, Reyna.

Skorge growled and pressed the sides of the pillow deeper into his ears. He’d already closed them--Locust could do that to prevent dust or debris from getting inside--but despite the double protection, it didn’t do anything to alleviate his frustration. Today was going to be busy and he got maybe two hours of sleep.

He hopped up, gritting his teeth. He slung the pillow against the wall, then the blankets, then the entire mattress. He opened his mouth and matched the infernal infant in volume and pitch.

Loud banging on his door two seconds later made him jump, yelping in spite of himself. “Shut up,” Myrrah snapped from the other side. Judging by the way the crying had grown louder, she must have had Reyna with her. “The last thing I need is for you to start fussing!” He heard her mutter “overgrown infant” as she walked away.

Skorge slid his bedroom door open and saw the Queen strolling down the hall, her back to him. She was in a regular nightgown, and her hair was undone, parts of it slightly wavy from being braided. Her arms moved in a bouncing motion, indicating she was trying to soothe Reyna. She passed her private chambers, and when she reached the end of the hall she turned and started towards him again.

He wondered how long she had been doing that and felt bad for yelling. He approached, head bowed apologetically, waiting for her to approach. She looked more tired than he could imagine feeling.

He whined, and she regarded him coldly. “Don’t apologize. Just help me.”

He nodded, ever ready to obey her commands.

She held her arms out with the squalling, limb-flailing, bald  _ human _ baby-thing towards him. He drew back, having second thoughts about his earlier conviction.

Everyone had their lines, man.

Still, after a second, he lifted his hands uncertainly. He’d held a baby once in his life, during his ascension ceremony where he officially became the High Priest, and dropped it. The event ruined his whole day, in no small part due to the lawsuit.

(The lawsuit related to a previous incident and had nothing to do with the dropped baby. The dropped baby was just an extra drop of water in the bucket of suck.)

As such, he was quite reticent about holding Reyna. But with Myrrah’s guidance, he managed to secure the infant with her fine-haired head in the crook of one elbow. She was swaddled, so his spikes wouldn’t be much of a problem. He wasn’t wearing his armor, either, which further reduced the chance of accidental infant impaling.

“What am I--”

“Just watch her,” Myrrah said. She stretched her arms like she hadn’t had the opportunity to in a long time. “I must see to our human guest.”

The human guest, Adam Fenix--the one who was supposedly going to fix their Lambency problem. Myrrah was keeping him in the Hollow somewhere, and checked up on him frequently.

“Why not RAAM does this?” Skorge asked, glaring at the wriggling, whimpering baby. “He‘s patient.” Or he was, in relative terms to the High Priest.

“He’s all the way on the other side of the Hollow,” Myrrah said. Done with stretching, she started to rub her temples, eyes squeezed shut in pain. “You’ll be fine.”

Another thought occurred to him. “How to feed baby?”

She sighed and turned around, already heading away. “There’s breast milk in the refrigerator.”

Skorge nodded, then knotted his face in confusion. “What is breast mi--”

She had rounded the corner, gone, looking more than a little hasty to get away from her own daughter. He growled.

“And what is refrigerator!”

With nowhere else to go, he retreated to his own room. It was a bare and small place, a glorified closet with a bedframe really. The mattress and blankets he’d thrown about took up most of the floor, and he flushed scarlet. He really had to stop throwing tantrums. He wasn’t a whelp anymore.

Speaking of which, the round, toothless, too-smooth-looking human wretch was still shrieking and wriggling around in his arms. He sat down with her on the discarded mattress and decided this was how he was going to die. Kantus were loud all the time too, but their noise wasn’t this  _ infuriating _ .

Sometime later--if he had to guess, he’d say five minutes, but time was meaningless in hell--his door creaked open and a pair of timid eyes looked at him.

“Baby,” came a gravelly voice. The Drone was crouched, and more sets of eyes appeared above his, from guards that were standing over him.

“Baby,” the palace Therons agreed.

“Queen baby,” the Drone went on, as if this was a revelation.

“Go away,” Skorge snapped. Yes, she was less than a week old and these men had probably not seen her yet, but that didn’t mean he had to put up with them.

The Drone must have been more brain damaged than usual, because he did the exact opposite of what Skorge ordered. He pushed the door in, stood, and walked over, his curious yellow eyes always locked on the strange-looking bundle.

The palace guards were more cautious, staying on the other side of the threshold, treating it like an invisible wall between them and the rageful Kantus. Skorge narrowed his eyes at the Drone.

“Baby!” The idiot extended a clawed finger. Skorge snapped his jaws and the Drone bellowed out in fear, retracting his hand.

Reyna opened her eyes to look at the new source of noise. Her arm had managed to come loose from her swaddling, and her hand flailed around. Her little fingers grasped one of the Drone’s, and she fell quiet.

Skorge’s hearts almost stopped from shock. His eyes went wide and he stared at Reyna, disbelieving. Her blue eyes were locked on the Drone in front of her. Her other hand was stuck in her mouth.

He looked at the Drone and honestly felt like crying. He even felt tears coming on. “Oh my god, I love you,” he said. In his sleepless state, it made sense.

The Drone tilted his head, rumbling questioningly. He looked at Reyna, wiggling his held finger around a little. Obviously, he enjoyed this kind of attention. He wouldn’t get this kind of affection from the Queen herself.

One of the palace guards stepped forward, taking the opportunity since Skorge was momentarily pacified. He was happy that he didn’t have to clench his ears shut anymore, so he allowed the intrusion.

The guard dug in a pocket and drew out a small tablet and a writing device. He looked at Skorge. “Place bet?”

He narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “About what?”

“Who sired baby,” the guard said.

Skorge blinked, heat rising to his face. He preferred not to think of his Queen in such indecent circumstances. “Well, ah, I don’t know?”

“He think RAAM,” the guard said, indicating his partner, still standing in the doorway. “I think Adam.”

Skorge contorted with such severe disgust he suspected he might fall into another dimension. He felt sorry for Myrrah, that they had to choose the worst potential possibilities to gossip about. “Uh…third option?”

“Mm…” The palace guard nibbled on the writing device, looking at his tablet with great thought.

The Drone, with innocent wide eyes and a bright smile, looked at Skorge and then the guard. “What if Skorge?”

“What if Skorge  _ what _ ?” He glared.

“Skorge dad,” the Drone said.

He couldn’t process that thought for a good three seconds. His jaw lay agape, his eyes as open as they could get. When he finally understood what this stupid, substandard ape was implying, he clenched his jaws together and growled. He was seething, limbs trembling slightly, only restrained because of the baby he held.

“Out!” Concern for Reyna’s eardrums was the only reason he didn’t scream at his maximum volume. “Out out out out out  _ out _ !”

The men bleated in alarm and tore out of the room, the last one to leave slamming the door behind him. Reyna started up her wailing anew, tears leaking down her face. He must have scared her.

He sighed and moved her so that she was against his chest, her head resting on the soft place between his neck and shoulder plate, trying to mimic what he‘d seen Myrrah do. She continued crying. This time it was his fault. His reaction had probably not done good for him, either.

But what nerve! Suggesting that he of all people was this creature’s sire! Even if he liked women, Myrrah was like a mother to him--if anything,  _ Reyna was his sister _ !

Thinking about it like that made him feel guiltier about upsetting her, so he accepted his fate and sat there without complaint. He deserved any nasty rumors. Myrrah already had plenty of rumors to contend with, so adding him to the mix was like adding a single leaf to a wildfire--it was so insignificant at this point it couldn’t even hurt.

“Please stop,” he groaned, too tired to be embarrassed that a mere human, one that hadn’t even grown teeth yet, had reduced him to begging. “Please just stop…”

* * *

The halls were quiet when Myrrah returned. She found Skorge’s door cracked open, like someone had shut it in a hurry and it bounced off the latch. The sight inside was enough to warm even her frigid, unfeeling heart.

Skorge was sprawled out on his mattress which was, for some reason, on the floor. Reyna had at last grown tired herself, and slept on his upper chest. She doubted this arrangement was his choice--the baby must have fallen asleep first and then he, with no energy left, decided to collapse where he was.

She considered taking her daughter so he could relax more, but there was a risk Reyna would wake up and that was the last thing anyone needed. She shut the door and went down the hall, towards her next duty.

_ If I knew his baby was going to be that loud, _ she mused,  _ I would never have fucked Richard Prescott. _

**Author's Note:**

> so uh. i have a lot of headcanons and FEELINGS about Gears of War in general. idk how often i'll update this thing but i wanted a place to put all my ideas and practice w/ different characters, styles, etc.
> 
> warning: i fucking love the Locust so Delta Squad probably aren't going to show up as often as the first couple of chapters seem to indicate. but maybe not i don't know. i am like an exhausted dad being pulled around by his exuberant muse-child to ride all the amusement park rides. i just want to sleep and really wish hotdogs weren't so expensive.


End file.
